


Shadow in the Glass

by Musical_Boxes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musical_Boxes/pseuds/Musical_Boxes
Summary: It's one thing to inherit a centuries-old townhouse in Greenwich, and a whole other thing to fall in love with the sorcerer cursed to wander its halls as a shadow.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	1. Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by the lovely Daisy_PoisonPen! Many thanks, Daisy!

The first thing Tony noticed was the dust. It was disgustingly thick, settled over the rooms of the townhouse like a particularly repugnant carpet.

“Geez, when was the last time anything living set foot in here?” Tony asked, only half-joking.

“Dunno,” Rhodey admitted, sneezing as he stirred up the dust. “I’m pretty sure most of these things belong in a museum.”

“No kidding,” Tony muttered, skirting a trio of old-fashioned navigator’s globes. This whole place gave him the creeps; if Tony had believed in ghosts, the abandoned townhouse would have been his first piece of evidence.

“Remind me why we’re here, Tones?” Rhodey asked, grimacing as he encountered a particularly large cobweb as they stepped through a doorway into an archive of sorts.

“Aw, don’t like my new crib, Platypus?” Tony teased, then coughed as his friend deliberately kicked up a cloud of particles for him to inhale. Honestly, how was there this much dust? Tony wasn’t sure they’d ever be rid of it all. "Was that entirely necessary?"

Rhodey flashed Tony an impish smile, and the shorter man rolled his eyes as they continued into the room.

Curious, Tony pulled a book off one of the numerous shelves, then cringed when he realized how old it must be - the title was written in what looked to be Hindi, but there were a few key differences that told Tony it was probably a much older language. Gingerly, he eased it back onto the shelf.

They left the library and continued up the grand central staircase, doing their best not to breathe in excessive amounts of dirt and grime. 

A hallway stretched ahead of them at the top of the stairwell, flanked by two additional sets of stairs. By silent agreement, Rhodey took one and Tony climbed the other, noting that they both led to a third level - a balcony of sorts.

There were perhaps half a dozen doors ringing the balcony, bearing silent witness to the passage of time. On a whim, Tony tested one, finding it unlocked, and pushed it open.

The bedroom was significantly less dusty than everywhere else Tony had been so far - the closed door had probably kept most of it out - and he figured it wouldn't hurt to take a moment and breathe some actual air.

The room was nice, if a bit dated. Tony spotted an earthenware wash basin and pitcher sat on a desk in the corner, and a yellowed newspaper that proclaimed the year to be 1895. However, what really caught his eye was the mirror.

It was a gaudy, full-length thing with trim that wouldn’t have been out of place in Versailles; elaborate, swirling leaves of polished gold surrounding surprisingly well-preserved glass. He crossed in front of the mirror, intending to get a closer look, and…

He stumbled backward, startled. Instead of his own reflection, a man in navy robes stood, a heavy, crimson cloak spilling off his shoulders. He pinned Tony with his electric blue gaze, and Tony was helpless to do anything but return the stranger's stare as he approached.

"Your clothes." The man's voice was a deep baritone rumble, and Tony shivered.

"What about them?" He asked, quite stupidly, unable to draw his attention away from the man's ethereal features long enough to formulate a better question.

"I've never seen garments of that ilk before. Tell me, what is the date?"

Tony frowned at the man's language. Eloquent (and arousing), yes, but entirely out of place in the twenty-first century. "Hold on, who are you?"

The man huffed and rolled his eyes, but answered anyway. "Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and Sorcerer Supreme. Now, what is the date?"

"July 18th, 2020."

Strange blanched. "Impossible." 

Unfortunately, Tony didn't have time to coach the good doctor through his crisis, as he could hear Rhodey calling for him out in the hallway.

"Look, I'm sorry to just dump that on you and run, but I've gotta go," Tony rambled, starting for the door.

"Wait! Will you return? I-"

"I'll be back," Tony promised, interrupting before the other could finish. "Now I've really got to run, but I'll come back, I swear."

Tony darted through the door and nearly crashed into Rhodey as he walked past. 

"There you are! You had me worried, man, you can't just disappear on me like that," Rhodey admonished.

"Can't blame a man for wanting to explore, Sourpatch. C'mon, let's get out of here before we develop emphysema."

He slung an arm around Rhodey's shoulders and steered him toward the stairs again, an odd ache forming in his chest as they drew further away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please keep an eye on the tags, as those are bound to change as I keep updating. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	2. Conversations With the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies; I am absolute trash at keeping a reasonable timetable for updates. Please enjoy!

Nearly two weeks go by before Tony has another chance to visit Greenwich. Between running a multi-million dollar company, wrangling an overexcited intern-cum-superhero, and being Iron Man left him little time for recreation. However, he’d made a promise, and Tony was loath to break the promises he made nowadays.

He quickly made his way through the recently-cleaned foyer and up the stairs, marveling at the difference a good dusting could make. Thank the gods for specialty cleaning services.

He stepped into the bedroom and immediately crossed to the mirror, searching the reflection for one Doctor Stephen Strange.

“You there, Doc?”

Stephen swept into the frame, regarding Tony with those piercing blue eyes for a moment before making his way to his desk. The doctor seemed to see no need to answer verbally. Silence hung heavy between the two men, Tony shuffling awkwardly in place.

“You have questions.” He spoke with his back to Tony, shuffling through sheafs of yellowed paper.

“I...yes, I do,” Tony managed, a bit embarrassed. “Figured we could, ah, make a transaction of it. Eye for an eye, that sort of thing.”

Stephen cast an incredulous glance over his shoulder. “Has the meaning of that phrase changed in the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years I’ve been entrapped here?”

Tony huffed, amused. “Nah, I just...equal exchange, yeah. My information for yours.”

The other man straightened, seemingly satisfied with the organization of his desk for the moment, and approached the mirror again, conjuring himself an overstuffed armchair to sit in. Tony watched in utter fascination as the cloak swept itself of Stephen’s shoulders and settled itself in a corner. Stephen hummed, a flicker of amusement passing over his face at Tony’s obvious interest.

“Very well. You already know who I am. Who might you be?”

Tony shook himself, bringing his attention back to the sorcerer. “Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and Iron Man,” he stated, mimicking the way Stephen had first introduced himself.

Stephen frowned. "You are a… knight, then? Or a hero of sorts?"

Tony grinned. "Sure thing. I designed a sort of armor that gives me extra abilities, like your magic does you. But this is all technology, baby!"

He tapped the arc reactor housing unit on his chest, studying the other man's reaction as shock, fear, and curiosity transformed his features into something almost childlike.

"Incredible," the sorcerer murmured. "I'd have never thought… and you say this is all technology?"

"Yep," Tony said, popping the 'p'. "I'd do a demonstration, but I have a feeling you wouldn't appreciate it if I damaged anything in here."

Stephen chuckled. "Indeed. Many of these artifacts are priceless even to those who cannot wield magic."

Tony tapped the arc reactor again, studying Stephen's face as the man watched the nanobots disappear into the housing unit once more.

"So, how'd you get stuck in Mirrorville?" He asked, curious. "Would've had to be someone pretty powerful to trap the Sorcerer Supreme, right?"

The doctor's expression turned bitter. "Indeed. An apprentice of mine turned rogue. She turned a faction of the other magic-wielders against me. They were all captured and dealt with, of course, but not before she managed one last curse, of which you can very well see the effects."

"And there's no way out?"

Stephen shook his head. "My...partner and dear companion Karl sacrificed everything in trying to secure my liberty. As far as I am aware, it is not possible."

Tony didn't miss the sorcerer's hesitation, but decided not to comment on it. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of his privilege to live in the twenty-first century, and his chest ached with sadness for those who came before him. Without his permission, the words came spilling out.

"I could see if...well, I might be able to do something. Surely with my technology, your magic, and our genius intellects we can figure something out. If that's still something you want, of course. I, uh, know it's not quite the same world you left."

The sorcerer fixed Tony with his piercing blue gaze, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t quite understand why Tony would offer to help him. Why indeed, Tony thought. He certainly didn’t know.

“Thank you,” Stephen murmured.

Tony chuckled nervously. “I haven’t done anything yet,” he pointed out.

“Yet,” Stephen emphasized, raising an eyebrow. 

The moment shattered when Tony’s phone chimed with the custom ringtone he’d set for a certain teenage trouble-maker. He glanced at the notification, and sighed inwardly. “Right, I’ve got to dash. I’ll try to be back soon, yeah? I’ll start working on something. See ya later, Doc!”

The doctor smiled indulgently. “Goodbye, Sir Stark,” he teased as Tony exited, and Tony couldn’t help but grin the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated (If not always deserved, lol)


End file.
